


Promise Me

by Satine86



Series: Adaar Family Adventures [6]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Family Fluff, Fluff, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-28
Updated: 2015-01-28
Packaged: 2018-03-09 12:25:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,332
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3249602
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Satine86/pseuds/Satine86
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Dorian and Kamea both fall sick, Ismat finds them more than a little demanding.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Promise Me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Korinwae](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Korinwae/gifts).



Ismat had been trapped in meetings since the wee hours of the morning, and all he wanted to do was lie down and take a long nap before the evening meal. However, as he climbed the steps to his quarters, he thought the room seemed overly warm even by Dorian's standards. Which, in Ismat's opinion, was saying something. 

“STOB!” the shout ended with a coughing fit. Ismat turned toward the bed and spotted Dorian huddled on it, a blank wrapped around him like cloak. 

“What's wrong,” he asked. 

Dorian sniffled sadly, dabbing at the corner of his nose with a handkerchief. “I've caught the plague from Kabea. I don't want you to catch it.” 

Ismat rolled his eyes and strode forward, laying the back of his hand across Dorian's forehead. A fever. Along with a stuffy nose, definitely what Kamea had come down with just the day before. Speaking of the seven year old, she appeared to be cocooned in their blankets, sound asleep on Ismat's pillow. 

“Perhaps if you'd taken the healer's advice, and let her sleep it off in her own room...”

Bloodshot eyes swiveled up to meet Ismat's gaze, brows furrowed. “Our daughter was ill, I was not about to let her suffer _alone_.” 

“Such a doting papa. Though you didn't need to catch it, too.” Ismat started toward the fire, adding another log and stoking it up. “Better?” he asked over his shoulder. 

“Yes,” Dorian manged to say right before he started sneezing. Ismat quickly returned to the bed, arranging the blankets, making sure Dorian and Kamea were both tucked in soundly. 

“Can I get you anything?” 

“Perhaps a mallet to the head? That way I can pass the time unconscious.” 

Ismat rolled his eyes. “What about some soup? Tea?” 

“Daddy?” Kamea's voice cracked as she lifted her head, eyes bleary and cheeks flushed. Ismat moved around to her side of the bed and sat down, brushing back her hair. 

“How do you feel?” 

“Yucky,” she moaned and settled back against his pillow. “I want tea. With honey. Lots of honey.” 

“Alright,” Ismat said. “And what does papa want?” 

The only reply he got was a pathetic glare. Ismat sighed. “Tea with honey for both of you then.”

Despite his exhaustion, he hurried off to the kitchens for a pot of tea and two bowls of soup. When Ismat returned with a tray, he found both of them asleep, and thought that was for the best. He sat the tray on his desk and debated what he should do. It was only a moment later that Kamea sneezed, waking Dorian in the process and then Ismat was put to work.

* * *

Ismat loved his family. More than anything. But right now they were driving him up the wall. Both Dorian and Kamea were still feeling ill, even after several days of rest and medicinal tonics from the healers, and both were needy. 

He'd been running around like the proverbial chicken with its head cut off, hardly sleeping, to get them everything they needed. He stocked up on blankets, but if one was cold the other was warm. He ordered firewood stacked by the hearth, he'd crammed in meetings whenever he could, and apparently only _he_ could make tea just to Kamea's liking. 

At the moment it was nearing dinner time, and he thought about sneaking down for a proper meal since Kamea was sound asleep, but Dorian was just waking up. His eyes were still bloodshot, his nose red and raw from constantly blowing it, and Ismat knew he ached all over. 

“Ismat?” Dorian croaked, voice nearly gone. 

He sat on the edge of the bed, brushed back some of Dorian's hair; his forehead was still warm, and Ismat reached toward the bedside table and grabbed a cloth that was soaking in a basin of water. He laid it gently across Dorian's head.

“Ismat,” he moaned pathetically.

“Do want some tea?” 

“No.” 

“What can I do?” 

“Promise me something?” 

“Of course,” Ismat nodded, and leaned in closer so Dorian could save his voice. “What is it?” 

“I want you to promise that you'll go on after I'm gone.” 

Ismat's face scrunched up in confusion. “What are you talking about?”

“I know I'm dying,” Dorian whined. “I just want you promise me you'll try to be happy. Find someone else, try to move on.”

“Andraste's flaming knickers,” Ismat growled under his breath, eyes rolling toward the ceiling. “You're not dying, Dorian. You're just ill.”

“No, I don't have much longer. I can see the light, Ismat. Just know that I love you, and Kamea. Tell Kamea I love her too.” Dorian puffed out a breath and shut his eyes. 

“You're a fool and delirious. Go back to sleep.” Ismat patted his chest gently, then pulled up the blankets a bit snugger around his shoulders. 

Dorian snaked his arm out from under the blankets to grip Ismat's hand. “Amatus, promise me.”

“Yes, I promise alright? Sleep. Now.” Had it been another time he was sure he would've found Dorian's declarations of death hilarious, but as it was he was too tired and too hungry to deal with any of this.

Dorian seemed pleased enough with his promise though, and settled back in bed, moaning sadly and flinging an arm over his eyes. “I hope the Maker takes me soon, this is awful.”

Ismat pinched the bridge of his nose. “I'll return after dinner, do you want anything?” 

“No, no. I'll be fine here... alone.” 

Rolling his eyes again, Ismat nudged Dorian over and climbed onto the bed, leaning against the headboard. Dorian was happy to get what he wanted, a Qunari shaped heater to cuddle against; he pressed himself against Ismat's side, head on his shoulder, leg thrown over Ismat's, and an arm around his waist. 

He sighed contentedly. 

Ismat's hopes of extracting himself from Dorian once he was asleep, were soon dashed when Kamea woke up long enough to crawl over Dorian and perch herself directly on top of Ismat's chest, her hand fisting in his shirt front. 

He sighed and glanced outside, night was slowly creeping in. Dinner would be served soon, and he wouldn't be able to partake in it. Ismat sighed again when his stomach gurgled sadly. 

* * * 

After days of congestion and coughing and aching and general suffering, Dorian awoke feeling almost human again. And no longer on the brink of death. He stretched his arms over head, pointed his toes to relieve some of the tension in his legs, and took a wonderful deep breath of air that wasn't hindered by a stuffy nose or punctuated with a coughing fit.

Miraculous. 

He turned and looked at Kamea, she seemed to be feeling better as well. Her cheeks had returned to their normal pallor, and her breaths were deep and even. He reached out to brush back her hair from her face, and she stirred.

“Papa?” she sat up and rubbed her eye. 

“Feeling better, my precious girl?” She nodded and scooted closer to him when he opened his arms wide. She settled against his chest, and he wrapped her in a tight hug. 

“Where's daddy?” she asked, voice slightly muffled against his shirt. 

“That.... is a good question.” Dorian kissed the top of her head and sat up. He and Kamea found Ismat propped against the end of the bed, his head pillowed on his folded arms. He was snoring lightly. 

Dorian tilted his head at his husband's sleeping form, he had dark smudges under his eyes, his hair a rumpled mess. Dorian looked down at Kamea. 

“Daddy is tired,” she said. 

“I see that. He must be exhausted.” Dorian frowned, feeling guilty that Ismat had ran himself ragged. “We should let him rest.”

“Papa?” 

“Hm?” 

Kamea's brows were furrowed as she looked at Ismat. Then earnest brown eyes swiveled up to meet Dorian's gaze. “He can't sleep there. How are we going to get daddy from the floor to the bed?”

Dorian blanched. How indeed.


End file.
